


My Beacon, My Light

by arachnistar



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnistar/pseuds/arachnistar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the darkest of pits, he has a light. Her name is Rose Tyler and she will come for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Beacon, My Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rose Empowerment Fortnight over at the I Bring Life Project on Tumblr.

Most men went mad in the darkness. They forgot themselves – their names, their families, their hopes and dreams and passions. This was the kind of darkness that ate and ate until there was nothing left.  

The Doctor wasn’t most men.

He listed the names of Presidents. Rassilon. Pandak. Morbius. Borusa. Romana. And so on. He ran through planets – Raxacoricofallapatorius, Padrivole Regency 9, Earth, Felspoon – and the major flora and fauna indigenous to each. He kept up a rambling lecture on quantum mechanics, pointing at false diagrams of electrons and star systems. The activities kept his mind from dwelling on the darkness when he wasn’t racking his mind for escape plans.  

What kept him going most of all though was the thought of Rose. Rose Tyler, his companion. His beautiful, brilliant, compassionate Rose. He didn’t know where she was or even if she was alive, but he believed it. A gut feeling, foolish maybe, but he believed in her. She would come just like he would for her.

Her image formed in his mind. Tongue-in-teeth smile, golden hair, eyes brimming with warmth and laughter and love. Sometimes she would be radiating light, a goddess, Bad Wolf. Most times she only had her inner light, shining in her eyes as she fought her way to him. His hands curled in empty air, searching for warm fingers and finding none. 

Until then, until the moment she came, he had to make do with himself. He had explored the chamber the moment he’d woken up in this overwhelming darkness, but there’d been no luck. The walls were entirely smooth, not even the slightest indentation where a door might be. The floor was similarly built. He’d licked it – it had tasted of blood and death with just the slightest tang of titanium poking through.

He’d taken stock of himself as well. Two legs, two arms, all body parts still intact though his hair was sticky with blood from a wound on his head. They had taken his clothes and dressed him in the scratchy rags of a previous prisoner. The Doctor’s nose had wrinkled at the smell of sweat and fear. No sonic screwdriver, it would be just his wits. Wits and the hope that Rose would find a way in.

Three days had passed since then with no disturbances. He was grateful for his internal clock keeping track of every second; if he were human, he would’ve lost track of time, the hours spinning away to days and weeks and months. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that long.

Light peeked into the room. The Doctor blinked his eyes shut and then forced them open to look at the source. It was from above, a small slat in the ceiling. As he squinted up at it, a cylindrical object dropped down. The slat closed just as quickly as it had opened, taking the light with it.

The Doctor stood and stretched out his fingers, rising up on his tiptoes. He sighed when his fingers brushed thin air. He tried jumping next, but even his best attempts were met with nothing.

“I couldn’t have been a bit taller.” He muttered. The darkness consumed the words, so he didn’t even have the comfort of his own echo.

Well, if he couldn’t reach the ceiling, there was only one thing left to do. The Doctor felt around for the fallen object. His fingers brushed plastic; he grabbed it and held it close. His hands traced over the cylindrical container, stopping at the top where a small tab stuck out. He tugged it open.

A fruity aroma filled the space, mixing with the other smells of waste and decay. His nose wrinkled in distaste; normally he would’ve liked the sweet scent, but in here, it was too much. It clogged his senses and only added to the muggy air.

Still, it was food. His mouth began salivating and he just barely resisted the urge to gorge on the container’s contents in one go. He had to be careful. It wouldn’t do to die of poison before Rose could reach him.    

The Doctor stuck a finger into the cylinder, into the sticky liquid inside. He drew out the digit and lapped at it. Peaches, it tasted of sweet canned peaches and nothing else. Safe to eat. Probably. In any case, there were easier ways to kill him down here.  

He reached in once more and fished out a chunk. His tongue snaked out, licking the piece, testing it, before he plopped the whole piece into his mouth. Sweetness flooded his senses as he gingerly chewed and swallowed. The second piece came faster and though he tried to pace himself, the cylinder was soon emptied of peaches. He finished it off by drinking down the juice and then set the container aside.      

At least he wouldn’t starve. His captors were, for whatever reason, keeping him alive. Perhaps testing how long it took to break a Time Lord in complete darkness? They’d be disappointed then; he had no intention of crumbling because of a little darkness.

Stomach full of peaches, the Doctor leaned back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. Next time it opened, he would be ready to reach out and jump for it.

His mind turned to Rose once more. Wherever she was, he hoped she was safe. Safe and coming to get him.

X-X-X

The Doctor had been missing for a week now. Last time she’d seen him had been at the markets of Halsten Prime when he’d wandered off to look for TARDIS parts and she had stayed by the fabric stalls. After that, Rose had searched the markets for him and eventually – dejected – trudged to the TARDIS, armed with a scolding on going home without her.

But the TARDIS had been empty. 

Five and a half hours had passed before Rose started another search, but it had proved fruitless until a beggar in an alleyway told her about the Putrari that had seized a man fitting her description. He didn’t know where they’d taken the man, just that they had and that they often picked people off the streets. For studying, he added and then took the rest of the offered money.

Looking for the Doctor wasn’t easy. With no way to pilot the TARDIS, Rose was stuck to frequenting all sorts of haunts on Halsten Prime with the hope that someone somewhere would know something. So far, nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was beginning to weigh on her and she had spent more than one time night crying herself to sleep, but she wasn’t going to give up.   

Today Rose entered the Battered Moon, a small pub tucked away on a narrow street. Round orbs provided meager lighting to the establishment, illuminating the rugged, burly wretches who came here and the prostitutes – men and women – who circled potential customers. Metal played over the tinny stereo system. She chose a spot at the counter and waited for the bartender – a violet-skinned native, scaly with spines and fangs and apron – to approach her.

“What’ll it be?”

“Jus’ some ale.” Before she could move on, Rose leaned in and added, “An’ some information.”

The bartender considered her for a moment and then nodded, leaning an elbow against the counter. “Go on.” 

“The Putrari. I need to know where they are.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know ‘bout that. No one does.”

“Someone _has_ to. I need to find them.”

“You’d be better off chasing shadows. Least those won’t kill you.” The bartender pushed off from the counter and sauntered off to prepare her drink.

Rose sighed and shut her eyes. If the Doctor was here, he would know what to do. But then if the Doctor was there, she wouldn’t be sitting in the Battered Moon in the first place. She wouldn’t have to wonder what was happening to him, if he was still alive.

Her nails dug into her skin. No, of course he was alive. She couldn’t think differently. He was alive. Maybe not the perfect-picture of health and happiness, maybe in gruesome amounts of pain, but alive. His image appeared in her mind, grinning, telling her not to worry so much, that he’d get out of this situation with his sonic screwdriver and oh-so-impressive Time Lord brain and then they’d go for chips. She’d like that, wouldn’t she? 

“Whatcha lookin’ for the Putrari for anyway?”

Rose opened her eyes. The bartender had returned with her amber drink. She accepted the glass and slid some coins over. She swiped a forked tongue over one before pocketing them. Rose’s heart jerked at the reminder of her Doctor and his propensity for licking objects.

“They took my friend. I need to get him back.”

She gave her a pitying smile. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s not dead.” She said far too quickly. His smile only grew more pitying.

“You loved him?” 

She didn’t say anything. Of course she did, but then she had never said those words before. Not to him, not to anyone, not even to herself, not really. She knew she loved him, knew it like she knew her own name, but the words just got lost in the jumble of everything else in their lives.

The bartender must’ve seen something on her face because she nodded. “They come by sometimes. The Putrari. Never talk to anyone else, but they grab a drink before leaving.” Her eyes lit up. “I’m not saying they’ll show up soon, but they might. You know what they look like?”

Rose nodded. She’d looked up pictures in the TARDIS beforehand.  

“They won’t speak to you, but you could try following one back. Not saying it’ll work, but it could.” The bartender shrugged. “They’re nasty creatures. They catch you, they kill you.”          

She nodded again. “I know, but I have to. He’d do the same for me.”

He might have tracked them down using a localizer on the TARDIS or something instead of interviewing locals for scraps of information, but he would’ve come for her all the same. She wouldn’t let him down now, just because there was a chance they’d kill her.

“Good luck.” The look the bartender flashed her made it clear she didn’t think Rose would make it, but that didn’t matter. She would, for the Doctor.

X-X-X

Rose sat in a corner of the Battered Moon, her drink untouched by her side. She had been coming here for days now with no results. She sighed and looked down at the amber liquid in her glass. What if she was already too late? What if something awful had happened to the Doctor and it was her fault for not finding him sooner? Or what if the Putrari had gone off-planet, taking their prisoners with them?

Her grip on the drink tightened. She couldn’t think like that. He was alive, he had to be. Her eyes closed and she summoned an image of him. Smiling and rambling on about this or that, encouraging her. _I’ll find you, Doctor._ His mental duplicate beamed at her.  

The pub fell silent – the laughing and chatter and clink of cups all ceasing at once, so the only sound was the metal over the stereo.

Rose’s eyes shot open. An ivory alien with skin smooth as bone and gangly limbs had arrived. He paused at the entrance, black eyes peering at them all in distaste, and then proceeded to the counter. His white coat swished through the air as he moved past. She shivered and clenched her hands into fists. Conversation resumed throughout the pub albeit quieter than before.  

The Putrari appeared almost human, if you had cast a human in marble and scrubbed away any jutting facial features – nose and ears and lips – then stretched their body out to produce something bony and tall. His fingers were thin and spindly as they wrapped around a glass and lifted it to his slit of a mouth. Rose watched, her own fingers running frantically along her own glass. This was it.  

Minutes passed and then the Putrari stood, having finished his drink, and strode out the pub. The bartender shot her a quick salute. Rose gave her a smile and slunk after her prey. Behind her, the pub returned to its previous clamor.

She crept after the Putrari, keeping a large distance between the two of them. As he moved, people parted for him, averting eyes and hurrying away with lowered heads. Gradually they left the busy market area of the city behind and entered the much quieter warehouse district.

He kept on weaving through buildings until he reached a white structure with peeling paint. Rose ducked behind a different building to observe him. He lifted a hidden panel and typed in a code too fast for her to track. A ray of light popped out, scanning his retina, and then the door popped open. He slipped through. It shut behind him.

Phase one was complete. Rose knew the base’s location. Now she just needed a plan to break in and bust the Doctor out. She hurried off to the TARDIS for supplies.

X-X-X

The Doctor couldn’t see a thing, just like in the waking world, but he could feel Rose’s warm hand in his and hear the cadence of her voice. Her words blurred into one another until they were just a string of unintelligible syllables. He frowned and opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but nothing came out. He tried again and again, yelling with all his power but no sound escaped. His hand tightened on hers and then her fingers were gone, dissipating from his grasp like vapor. He tried to shout her name, but once again, he couldn’t speak for the tightness in his throat. He couldn’t do anything. Just die alone.  

Golden light flooded the darkness, suffusing every inch of his world in its soft warmth. _Doctor, my Doctor._   

And then a boom shattered the dream and pulled him into the waking world. Despite his vow not to rest, two weeks of not sleeping, of sitting around and talking to nobody and stretching his limbs and watching the ceiling (there had been a few incidences where the slot opened to deposit his food but he’d never been able to reach it, no matter how much he tried), had taken their toll on the Doctor. He was on the floor, his cheek pressed to the smooth floor. He was still tired too, but loud noises took precedence over more sleep.  

A panel slid open and just as in his dream, light filled the cell. It wasn’t golden, this light, it was a cheap fluorescent variety, white and shaky but it may as well have been the sun to his eyes. He peered up, squinting at where the ceiling had opened. Haloed by the light knelt Rose Tyler, smiling down at him.

“Hello.”

Was he still dreaming? Would she fade away again? But no, she was still there, waiting, her eyes worried. He remembered waking and it didn’t make sense to wake from one dream to fall into another. In any case, he found he didn’t care much if this was just a dream. It was a nice one and he could see.

“Hello,” he parroted back, wetting his cracked lips with a quick lick. He was aware of how he must look – eyes almost shut to the brightness, skin dirty with the days, rags hanging off his too-thin body with his ribs sticking out, hair limp and oily, a grin wider than the Medusa Cascade across his face. In comparison, she seemed to shine. 

Rose stretched out a hand for him. “C’mon Doctor. We need to get you out before they send back-up.”  

He grabbed her hand after jumping and with a mighty tug, she pulled him out of his pit. They fell backward to the floor. The Doctor would’ve been content to lie there – his body was already protesting the activity and they hadn’t even started yet, not really, but he was already so tired, his limbs so heavy with lack of nutrition and rest and exercise.

She stood first and helped him to his feet. His muscles complained and the world spun around him, but he told them to stuff it and instead focused his attention on Rose. That was easier than focusing on the world in any case. There were shadows under her eyes, but otherwise she looked healthy.

Rose wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He buried his face into her hair, breathing her in. His brilliant Rose.

“’M glad you’re alive.”

“We’re not out yet.” But he was relieved and optimistic that they would get out now that she was here and he was out of his cell.  

Rose nodded and drew back to look him over. “Are you okay to run?”

“Always am.” His words were a lot more confident than he felt, but then he was also confident in her ability to get them both to safety.

Rose didn’t look like she believed him either, but she nodded her head anyway. “Lean on me, Doctor, and we’ll go fast as you can.”  

With his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist, they shuffled off through the hallway. Other trapdoors dotted the floor, but there weren’t any guards around yet.   

“Where’d they go? There were guards, weren’t there?”

“There was a convenient explosion upstairs.”

He beamed at her. “Brilliant.”    

She smiled back.  

They passed through the exit where a sole guard lay slumped on the floor. The Doctor glanced down at her, catching sight of the gun he had failed to notice before. His stomach stirred. She caught him looking and shrugged. “’S just a stun gun. Needed something in case one of them saw me.”

“My sonic screwdriver!” If his arms felt less like lead, he would’ve slapped himself. How could he almost forget about the small device, not to mention his beloved coat and psychic paper?

Rose frowned. “Do you know where they took it?”

The Doctor shook his head. “No, I was out the whole time. It has to be around here somewhere. Maybe through there?” He gestured at the small doorway to their side.

“Doctor, we don’t have much time.”

“I need to get it.”

“An’ if they come down here while we’re looking?”

 The Doctor frowned. He didn’t want to be recaptured. More than that, he didn’t want Rose to be captured and thrown into the darkness. She deserved the stars, not a pit in the ground. Or they might just kill her. Also not good. But what would he do without his trusty sonic screwdriver?

He sighed. Screwdrivers were replaceable; Rose wasn’t. He would do a quick look in the room and if it wasn’t there, they would leave. Just as he opened his mouth to inform her of his decision, footsteps and loud voices sounded through the hall.

Rose grabbed him and tugged him through the door, clicking it shut behind them. It was a small guardroom complete with table, chairs, and refrigeration unit. A bin stood at the far end filled with looted clothes.    

He shuffled over to the bin while she stood behind the table, her gun leveled at the door. There were leather jackets, trousers, even a feathery cap, but he couldn’t find his long coat. The Doctor leaned in further. It had to be in here somewhere.

From outside the door, a Putrari spoke. “Prisoner 45 is loose.”

“Find him.” Another voice, lower than the first. “We cannot allow our only Time Lord specimen to escape.”    

The Doctor stilled as the door slid open. Not good, not good, not good. He was about to turn around and bargain for their lives when Rose’s gun fired. The alien went down. Three more piled into the room, each baring an energy blaster. Damn.  

“Drop your weapons or we shoot.” The Putrari in the center smiled crookedly.

Rose set her gun down as the Doctor straightened, raising his hands in the air. Well, this was it. Maybe if he talked fast enough, he could get them out. Putrari weren’t known for releasing captives, most certainly not ones they hadn’t studied yet or ones that had escaped, but there was a first time for everything. His mind spun as he considered his options. There was nothing to threaten them with. Begging wouldn’t work. A bluff then. He could whip one of those up in a jiffy. Rose beat him to it.

“Release us and the rest of the prisoners or I blow up the base.” Her hand was curled around a small trigger, thumb nearly pressing the button.

The lead Putrari hissed. “You’re bluffing.”

“I set off the explosion upstairs. I left some extra explosives around in case we got caught. Enough to take down the whole base, not just a part of it.”

The Doctor grinned and resisted the urge to pump his fist in victory. Ha! Even if it was a bluff, it was a well-played one. Surely the Putrari wouldn’t risk it. They murmured amongst one another before the one in the center turned to them.

“We will allow you to go.”

“And the others?”

The answer was immediate. “We cannot release our life’s work.”

“Are you sure ‘bout that?” Rose pressed halfway down on the button.

“You wouldn’t. You’d blow yourselves up along with us.”

“She would.” The Doctor piped in. All eyes turned to him. “Big heart, this one, and a complete nutter. Not a safe combination, let me tell you. Almost got us killed dozens of times before this, but they were all smart enough to surrender. Best to let the prisoners all go and find a new life’s work. Might I suggest botany? Booming market, that. People are always looking for better crops to grow. It’ll be huge.”

The aliens considered them both. The Doctor and Rose returned their looks with manic grins. The one in the center exhaled slowly. “We will send word to our head.”

“Brilliant. An’ I’ll want my coat back too!”

X-X-X

In the end, the commander agreed to release the captured prisoners. As the prisoners shuffled out from the base to waiting ambulances, the Doctor and Rose slipped away to return to the TARDIS. He was back in his suit and coat and all was as it should be. All he needed now was a good shower, something more substantial than peaches, and then a good rest.   

“Did you really have explosives rigged up to blow the base?”

“I wasn’t going to make an empty threat.”

He grinned at her before sending the TARDIS into the Vortex with the flick of a lever.

“So, ‘m a nutter then?”

His arm came up around her shoulders, pulling her into a half-hug. “Only as nutty as I am.”

“That’s the least reassuring thing you’ve ever said.” She smiled at him, her tongue catching between her teeth. He stared at it, his own tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“I missed you.” The Doctor turned so they were face-to-face, adjusting his arms to hold her hips. Her hands went up to rest over his hearts.

“I missed you too.” Her eyes were wet. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Never.”

He leaned in, hesitating a few centimeters from her lips. They stood at a cliff, a wide chasm below them. Possibility stretched out in that direction, a whole tangle of potential events that would change their timeline. They would fly or they would fall or they would scurry away from the ledge like they always did.    

Rose trembled and closed the rest of the distance between them. Their kiss was chaste at first, just the gentle pressing of lips against one another. He opened his mouth first to swipe his tongue along her lips. She opened to him. Their tongues ran along each other before delving deeper, tasting and exploring. He tugged her closer as her hands slipped into his hair. Time stretched out before them and he could almost believe that they wouldn’t fall into any of its pits, that she would never lose him and he would never lose her. That they would keep on like this.

It was a lovely thought, almost as lovely as the here-and-now sensations of Rose’s lips on his and her fingers in his hair. Eventually she pulled away, her nose wrinkling.

“You could use a shower.”

The Doctor pouted. “Rose…”

She smirked. “If you ask nicely, I’ll join you.”   

He did and she stayed quiet long enough to make him squirm before grabbing his arm and tugging him off in the bathroom’s direction. 


End file.
